MALATE LITERARY FOLIO Tomo XXXVI Special Issue Bilang 2 Karapatang-ari Š 2020
A
ng Malate Literary Folio ang opisyal na publikasyon ng sining at panitikan ng Pamantasang De La Salle - Manila, sa ilalim ng awtoridad ng Student Media Office (SMO). Ang mga komento at mungkahi ay maaaring ipahatid sa: E-mail address: mlf@dlsu.edu.ph Website: issuu.com/malatelitfolio Facebook: fb.com/malateliteraryfolio Twitter: @malatelitfolio Instagram: @malatelitfolio 503-Media House, Bro. Connon Hall De La Salle University-Manila, 2401 Taft Avenue, Malate, Manila Nananatili sa indibidwal na may-akda o may-dibuho ang karapatang-ari ng bawat piyesang ipinalimbag dito. Hindi maaaring ipalathala muli o gamitin sa anumang paraan ang alin man sa mga nilalaman nang walang karampatang pahintulot ng may-akda o may-dibuho Ang tomong ito ay hindi ipinagbibili. Ang disenyo ng folio na ito ay likha ni Adia Pauline Lim.
May takot sa pagtuklas sa sarili. May ginhawa sa kasiguraduhan pero meron ding nakaakibat na galit sa haharaping kinahinatnan. Ang pagiging mulat sa sarili ay may kasamang paggising sa kondisyon na kapalit ng pagiging totoo sa iyong pagkatao. Ang bawat pag-amin ay may takot na balikan ng kahusgahan. Ang pagpapaalam ng sarili sa mundo ay hindi dapat kailangan. Ang laban para sa pagtanggap ay nagsisimula sa pagyakap sa sarili. Kung hindi man handang ipagmalaki ito, gagawin ito ng komunidad para sa’yo. Kung naghahanap ng lugar kung saan mabibigyan ng buong pusong pagtanggap, merong tahanan sa ilalim ng bahaghari na bukas lang ang pinto. Inihahandog ng Malate Literary Folio ang isyu na ito sa lahat ng naliligaw, o naghahanap ng tatakbuhan. Nawa’y ang aming mga likha ay makapagbigay sa inyo ng ilang sandali ng ligaya, o kahit kaunting ginhawa. PAULA BIANCA MARAÑA Punong Patnugot
PATNUGUTAN Paula Bianca Maraña Punong Patnugot Querix Keershyne Recalde Tagapamahalang Patnugot Francis D’Angelo Mina Patnugot ng Prosa Christine Autor Patnugot ng Tula Cielo Marie Vicencio Patnugot ng Sining Kyle Noel Ibarra Patnugot ng Retrato Chaunne-Ira Masongsong Tagapamahala ng Marketing at Events Van Rien Jude Espiritu Tagapamahala ng Pagmamay-ari Adia Pauline Lim Tagapamahala ng Layout
MGA SENYOR NA PATNUGOT Maria Gabrielle Galang Philippe Bernard Cabal Cheyenne Grace Espiritu Ninian Patrick Sayoc Beatrice Julia Triñanes
STUDENT MEDIA OFFICE
Armando Miguel Valdes
Franz Louise Santos Director
MGA TAGAPAYO
Jeanne Marie Tan Coordinator
Dr. Mesandel Arguelles Mr. Vijae Alquisola
Ma. Manuela Agdeppa Secretary
MGA
Prosa Mary Joy Abalos Jeremy Dale Coronia Allysa Nicole DequiĂąo Daniel Ricardo Evangelista Jihan Marie Ferrer Cathleen Jane Madrid Cris Marriel Nabayo Guion Lorenzo Castro Tula
Claire Madison Chua Adrian Neil Holgado Christian Paculanan Vince Gerard Victoria Christian Jeo Talaguit Ryann Ting
Marketing & Events
Elijah Barongan Jan Magcaling Arvir Jane Redondo Bela Tuason Dominique Yap
Sining
Francesca Therese Baltasar Pablo Mulawin Casanova Marinel Angeline Dizon Matthew Rafael Florendo Kathleen Nicole Garay Phoebe Danielle Joco Jamie Shekinah Mapa Thea Enrica Ongchua Bea Mira So Dana Beatrice Tan
Retrato
Isabella Alexandra Bernal Alexander Flores Benedict Lim Nigelle Lim Sean Xavier Nieva Brandon Kyle Pecson JosĂŠ Isabel Rea
KASAPI
MGA NILALAMAN
Introduksiyon Alexa Paula Bianca Maraña
Banyo Kween Waya Ayco I Dont Feel Gay Ecri sa paglalarawan ni José Isabel Rea
And Let our Response Be Paula Bianca Maraña sa paglalarawan ni Marinel Angeline Dizon
Pop Rocks Kathleen Nicole Garay P.R.I.D.E. Jihan Marie Ferrer
TOMO XXXVI
TAHANAN SA ILALIM NG BAHAGHARI SPECIAL ISSUE BILANG 2
ALEXA
Paula Bianca MaraĂąa
Banyo Kween Waya Ayco Naglalarawan ang malaking salamin. Kapansin-pansin ang plakado niyang kilay habang nagpapakakikay sa paglalagay ng kulay. Makulay ang blouse na nanggaling kay Nanay. Sabay paypay ng makulay na pamaypay Na nagmimisutlang butterfly. Sa sandaling iyon, ang buhay niya ay tunay. Ngunit ngayo’y oras na para umuwi siya ng bahay. Dali-dali niyang binubura ang plakadong kilay, katawan ay pinagtitibay, hinuhubad ang blouse ni Nanay. Tumatawag na si Tatay.
Si Waya Ayco ay dating kasapi ng Malate Literary Folio at naging bahagi ng seksyon ng Tula kung saan nailathala ang kaniyang gawa, “Banyo Kween�. Nagtapos siya ng kursong BS in Management of Financial Institutions sa De La Salle University - Manila at kasalukuyang nagtratrabaho sa isang pribadong kompanya. Ang kaniyang mga tula ay umiikot sa mga pagsubok na hinarap niya bilang parte ng LGBTQ+ community. Gusto niyang ibahagi ang kaniyang karanasan bilang isang trans woman sa pamamagitan ng tula.
I DON’T FEEL GAY Ecri
paglalarawan ni José Isabel Rea
I was 8 or 9 years old when it first started setting in. Or, maybe 10. I was
this nerd who had his head in a book half the time. My notebooks were full of scribbled fanfiction. I remember a lot of cringey first drafts and discarded outputs. I remember Wattpad, too. I visited my old account recently. My Wattpad reading list had stories that always contained this tag: “bxb”. boyxboy. Sometimes, it was manxman. It was all these stories of boys or men falling in love. Or something. The memories are fuzzy at best. I remember coffee-shopmeetups, a nerd forced to tutor a hard-outside-but-soft-inside jock, high school alternate universes (or AUs), date-him-as-a-dare scenarios, and all that. I also remember copious amounts of sex and the use of the word “cum”. It never occurred to me beforehand that was the start of what would become a shitshow. Wattpad was just this thing that I thought I always needed. It gave me a sense of euphoria, as if reading raunchy (trashy) scenes made me feel alive. I didn’t even know what a “member” was at the time. That word came up a lot. There was this one story that stuck with me. No sex and no cutesy scenes like in those cheesy rom-coms. It was the story of this one boy that dealt with abuse at home and at high school, and all because he was gay. A gay boy taunted by a sadistic author Gay. Bakla. Bading. People thought he was a girl. That’s why they made fun of him.
I remember being called that name one time. We had P.E. but the sport was basketball. The guys in my class were so quick to play that game. I hung back, unsure. Some of them hollered at me. Join us, they said. It’ll be fun, they pressed. I shook my head. No, I said. I refused to play basketball. I said it was boring. “Bakla!” One of them taunted me. The rest laughed at that. I just tilted my head. I didn’t know what it meant. I tried to dismiss it but it stuck in my mind. Now, I understood. They thought I was that gay kid. They were wrong, though. I was a boy, not a girl. After that, it was high school. I had a crush on one of my classmates when I was grade 8. He was a boy. I think everyone liked him just a little bit. He was attractive with his short, spiky hair and he was funny with his corny jokes. He was a basketball player too, the jock that I fell in love with time and again. I used to imagine scenarios where we’d grow close under the moonlight and he’d show me his vulnerable side. A kiss from my spiky-haired hero-slash-jock with his thousand-watt smile and the dimples in his cheeks. The thought occurred to me: this would have made me a girl. Somehow, that terrified me. But no. I had nothing to be afraid of. Still, the thoughts persisted. I felt taunted by them, like I was betraying myself by thinking these things. I was lost and unsure of who I was.
There was a time that he flirted with me as a joke. My jock flirts with everyone, and I think it was because he knew he was good-looking. He put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in, winking at me. My cheeks and my neck felt hot. My lips twitched as I fought to keep the smile off my face. My eyes fluttered shut and I made to lean in. “Bading!” A shout tore through the air, jarring me out of my thoughts. My jock, with his dimpled smile, laughed and leaned back. He slapped me on the shoulder. “Kinilig ka, noh?” He asked with another laugh. My eyes widened and I pulled back. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my armpits. “’Di kaya,” I shakily denied, looking away and giving him the middle finger as thoughts swirled in my head. I expected to be kissed. I had wanted him to do it. My legs felt like jelly as I fought to keep still. “Baka ikaw bading?” I tried to turn the tables around, but he just laughed in my face and walked away. I wanted to kiss him so badly, I realized. I caught myself looking at him from time to time for the entire day. There was some hope in me that he’d still do it. I wanted him and I was gay. This scared me. I stuck to myself for the entire day. When I went home that day, I sat in my room and just started thinking: me being gay now. I didn’t know what would happen to me if I’m gay. I’ve always known I was a guy, but then I started
liking the jock and I had to reevaluate myself. Nothing came to mind when I tried to understand everything. Everything felt so confusing. Eventually, I stopped trying and opened my phone to read my Wattpad stories. I dismissed my thoughts. They weren’t important at the moment. When I was in grade 10, I told one of my best friends that I was gay in a gymnasium during a hot day. We were seated high up in the bleachers, looking down on an ongoing ceremony. I was sweating through my shirt, and I kept wiping at my forehead. Alisa was seated beside me. The gym was packed. A few school officials were down at the court. A stage was set up in the middle. Nothing felt right when I told her I might like boys. My voice sounded like it was from far away. I felt alien in my own skin. Absently, I scratched at my arms, leaving red welts. I thought it would clear things up and she’d help me understand why I was gay. I started biting at my nails and flexing my fingers. My leg started bouncing. I wanted to run away. Then, she leaned over to me and put a hand on top of mine. She said nothing. There was no relief from her, though. My body was still tense, and I shook her off. There was a voice in my mind that told me this wasn’t right. I needed to leave. I excused myself and went out back into a
comfort room. I vomited out my lunch there while tears were streaming down my face. Someone in there had asked me if I was alright. I ignored them. I was gay. The next time I thought about coming out was when same-sex marriage was legalized in the US. This time, I came out to myself. Samesex marriage was the talked-about topic. The word “gay” popped up so much that I thought it would be the turning point. It wasn’t something bad. I could face that realization. I could say it. We talked about it in class one time. Here, surrounded by friends and classmates who I knew and laughed with, I somehow felt at peace. I was almost confident that they’d be accepting. Our teacher, a thin man with big square glasses, was standing at the front up on a platform. He was asking something: “Show of hands: who wants same-sex marriage?” I could see the big blackboard and the table and the chair. There were no hands. The voice came again, asking the opposite. Then, arms raising up. Arms shooting up that crowded my vision. There were so many of them. All I could see were hands and skin and unacceptance. I clenched my fists, fighting to keep silent. I looked down to the dark red-tiled floor. There were tears building in my eyes. I wanted to leave. Why don’t you accept me? I wanted to ask—wanted to shout it at their faces. There was a cacophony of voices. Not right. Against their
religion. Not ready. Asking for too much. Not for the Philippines. There was a righteousness to their medley. The tightness in my chest coiled like a serpent. I felt cold and alone. That news about same-sex marriage didn’t leave my mind immediately. I kept thinking about it and attributing it to people’s [indirect] opinions of me. It was starting to make me feel bitter, wanting to lash out at them. My friends thought I was wrong, but for the longest time, I felt like I could trust my family. The fear was still there, but there was also a flicker of hope that they would help me understand everything. Untangle the bitterness that was starting to form inside me. I was looking through that news again during one afternoon. My room was bathed in an orange light. I was on my bed, hugging a pillow as I absently scrolled through the news. Home, it felt like. Comfortable. I was planning on how to tell it to them. I need their help now more than ever. Then, there was a bang. Suddenly, my sister was in my room. She looked worried. For a moment, I had thought that there was a family problem. Her voice cut through the atmosphere: “Ano ‘to?” She was asking about me liking the news story on Facebook. Her voice was loud. I hunched my shoulders, moving back. I felt threatened.
“No,” I wanted to speak. Nothing came. My eyes widened
and nonononono—it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I hunched closer to myself, biting my lip. “Baka kung ano isipin ng mga tao!” She reprimanded me. She told me to unlike it. Words came unbidden from my lips. Words I didn’t want to say and words I couldn’t take back. Yes, yes, yes, yes. I was gay. Maybe I’m gay. No, wait, yes, no! I’m gay. Wait. I don’t know. “Paano kung oo?” I asked her then, unsure. I was like a child, pulling at my mother’s dress to ask for permission. Her voice shook when I asked that. She sounded like she needed to fix something quickly before it turned into a disaster. Fix it. “Ano iisipin ng mga kaklase mo? Ng mga kaibigan mo?” I wanted to tell her that I already knew. “‘Di pwede! Paano kami?” It was the lecture of a lifetime. I couldn’t be gay. It just can’t happen. I was told this with the sweetest, most caring and concerned tone she had, her voice almost breaking with fear, that I can’t be gay. It didn’t take all that long for it to spread to my entire family. My family asked me where I went wrong. My mother asked my brother if he could fix this. He was studying to be a doctor. He knew medical shit. He could fix me. My father’s voice felt the coldest, though, and only because there was no tremor. No fear. He told me that if I had not been his son,
I would have already been thrown out. My mother asked me, “Bakit, anak?’” She sounded so hurt and so disappointed. There were unshed tears in her eyes and she was gripping my sweaty hands like her life depended on it. Her eyes… I never wanted to hurt her that much ever again. She said nothing else. I didn’t say anything in return. My mind was flashing back to the times I thought I could start to unravel who I am. Now, there was only confusion and bitterness. I didn’t want to be gay anymore. Fixmefixmefixmefixmefixme. I carried this feeling with me for so long I didn’t know if years had passed or just months. I graduated high school hating myself. College brought out a different atmosphere, however. It was something I wasn’t used to. La Salle felt very… open. The first year was uneventful, but there was a scene that stuck out in my mind. I was sitting in a study hall right across from someone with rainbow-colored hair. The air felt easy and light. There was a comfortable noise in the background, people talking about their assignments and projects and other meaningless things. My rainbow-haired friend was telling me all about her last relationship, which was with a girl. “All my past relationships have been with girls,” She told me. She segued to her current relationship, a guy she’d been crushing on for forever. Nervously, I told her about my crush with the jock so long
ago. She curled her lips, and for a moment I thought she’d say something bad, but she just told me that I chose a shit guy to like. I laughed at that, albeit tremulously. It felt weird. “We’re so gay,” She joked. I couldn’t help but smile back. Inside, I was screaming. Despite everything else—no matter how much people just didn’t care—I couldn’t ignore the bitterness that gnawed at me. They were everything I could have been—part of me thinks that they were everything I wanted to be. Maybe seeing them, being with them, would have given me the confidence I wished I had back then. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have been so lost and angry of who I was. I’m a guy. I’m gay, but I don’t feel gay. I didn’t want to be gay. It was tearing me up inside that I didn’t know what to think of myself now. I don’t know who to believe, and I didn’t know how to reconcile myself with the fact that they were unfixable. Slowly, bitterness turned to rage. They were unfixable, but maybe there was still hope for me. Not much happened after that. There was still that belief simmering inside me. I knew for myself that all this may yet change—that this was maybe a phase. During this time, I joined an arts organization. I wanted to be a writer. Part of me thought that channeling this rage into something else would help me. Sometimes, my mind would go back to
the gay stories I had read in the past, and then I’d imagine myself writing someone like that. I didn’t want to be the sadistic author tormenting a gay boy, though. That boy felt unfixable. For better or worse—I’m still debating on it—joining this arts organization exposed me to so many people, many of whom were also gay. Gay people with loud opinions about who they were. Who they wanted to be, and what they were unapologetic about. That went against everything I wanted to believe. They were proud of who they were, and I felt discomfited. Embarrassed at myself being lost. This anger inside me thrashed and clawed, begging to be let out and to explode. Why was I so angry at them? It didn’t take long for me to realize that I hated them. I hated my rainbow-haired friend, who eventually also joined the org. I hated the people I knew there. I hated every other out and not-out person in this fucking university. I hated them, but I admired them all so much too. Seeing them, being with them, talking to them… without them knowing, they distanced me from the rage I let grow inside of me. When I’m with them, I feel like I’m floating above-water. It was… intoxicating in some ways. I still didn’t know what to think of myself, but there was some small part of me that was saying: “This doesn’t feel so bad?” I was unsure, but it was stuck in my mind. Come 2nd year, and I was still a part of that org. I was starting to
love it there. I met more people, and yeah, many of them weren’t straight. Some liked boys, some liked girls, some of them liked everyone. Like one big gay cult. With them, I somehow felt less wrong about myself. Less angry. Less lost. Yeah, it doesn’t feel as bad as before, I thought to myself when I looked back. I know I have to untangle bits and pieces about myself first, work out that bitterness inside me, but with them, I didn’t feel so lost anymore. This is who I am. I still don’t know what it is about myself that felt wrong back then. I don’t know if I still thought I was fixable in some way. There were times that I could still feel that longing—“Sana straight nalang ako,” I would think to myself when I would see others disapprove of gay people. Disapprove of me. I tried to silence those thoughts, but they persisted. I knew I was gay. I could accept that—I already did—but I never wanted this. I never expected to have to deal with this. I had thought that this, all this, would stay in the stories I had read. But no. This is who I am, and I can’t do anything to change it. Still, sometimes I feel like I can’t fully embrace who I am now. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I’m gay. I don’t feel like it at times. Sometimes I don’t even want it, but I can’t deny it. I don’t want to deny it. I’m gay. In some way, that was enough for now.
And Let Our Response Be Paula Bianca MaraĂąa
All words taken from bible verses that speak of, imply, or oppose homosexuality (Jude 1:7, Leviticus 20:13, 1 Timothy 1:9-10, 1Corinthians 6:9-10, Ezekiel 16:49, 1 Samuel 18:1, Romans 1:27, Matthew 19:4-5)
behold, this was pride, an abundance of fullness. there, I saw the surrounding cities, undergoing a punishment of desire burned in their flesh. you say the law is laid down for the lawless. do you not know that the unrighteous will not be deceived? behold the unholy need for eternal fire— for blood upon the doctrine of immorality, knit in the souls of those who love. behold— this is pride
paglalarawan ni Marinel Angeline Dizon
POP ROCKS
Kathleen Nicole Garay
P.R.I.D.E.
Jihan Marie Ferrer
Profit
Romance & Ignorance
Diversity
Everyday
PASASALAMAT Nais pasasalamatan ng Malate Literary Folio ang mga sumusunod-mga kaibigan, kapwa manunulat, at mga mangingibig ng sining. Dr. Mesandel Arguelles, at Mr. Vijae Alquisola; Ms. Franz Santos, Ms. Jeanne Tan, Mrs. Ma. Manuela S. Agdeppa, at ang Student Media Office; Ms. Dinah Roma at ang Department of Literature; Dr. Ernesto Carandang II at ang Departamento ng Filipino; ang Bienvenido Santos Creative Writing Center; College Editors Guild of the Philippines; Ms. Nelca Leila Villarin at ang Office of Student Affairs; Dr. Lily Ann Cabuling at ang Health Services Office (Taft); DLSU Bookstore; DLSU Student Co-Operative (SCOOP); Council of Student Organizations (CSO), Computer Studies Government (CSG), Center for Social Concern and Action - Lasallian Outreach & Volunteer Effort (COSCA-LOVE), DLSU University Government (USG); Office of the Legal Counsel; Finance and Accounting Office; Security Office; Mr. Michael Millanes at ang Student Discipline Formation Office; Ang Pahayagang Plaridel, Archers Network, Green Giant FM, Green & White, The LaSallian, at ang Student Media Council; Magicus Junctra Corporation Printing; Nais din namin pasalamatan ang Metro Manila Pride sa pagtangkilik sa Pride folio at organisasyon. At higit sa lahat, sa LGBTQIA+ community na kinukulayan ang bahaghari, patuloy na pinaglalaban ang karapatang isabuhay ang tunay na sarili, at binibigyan ng tahanan ang mga pinagkaitan. Hindi natatapos sa Hunyo ang laban. Sabay-sabay natin itayo ang tahanan sa ilalim ng bahaghari.
TOMO XXXVI
SPECIAL ISSUE BILANG 2